The glamorous callers The rainbow flags adorning the cafeteria of the Hagley Community College make it easy to spot from the road, but finding a carpark nearby is a much harder ask. By the time I slip into a vacant chair beside Julie and Rhonda there are just minutes to go before Auntie Pipi and her two cohorts start the balls rolling for the Gay Bingo night, part of Christchurch Pride. It's almost a full house, with about 80 people of all ages and most sexualities gathered for a night of fun. As a defector from Christchurch three decades ago it's unlikely I will know many people here. I almost don't recognise Miss Mole in man-drag and she doesn't seem to recognise me out of Auckland context when I hazard a little wave across the room. I spot political up and comer Tony Milne and a few others but Julie and Rhonda are so friendly the lack of acquaintances makes no matter. "Christchurch Pride is all about the ongoing visibility" of glbti people, Julie says. "It's about celebrating and honouring our diversity," agrees Rhonda. These women's sense of community and empowerment seems incredibly strong. I've got one book of Bingo cards, the women have two each. I also have a chocolate wheel number, valid for a number of spins through the evening, and for which I have high hopes when I see the mountain of chocolates and other prizes at the top table. Aunty Pipi and Mary Vale (a very Christchurch drag name... Merivale... geddit?) take turns at calling the numbers, though the no nonsense Pipi seems to dominate. We play for combinations of lines such as top and bottom, diamonds and four corners. We're a bit ignorant at our table so Theresa next door has to come to our rescue to explain what a diamond is and even what four corners are. But we're not so bad as a table down the front who have to have four corners explained over and over with the help of repeated hand gestures akin to sign language and air safety demonstrations - but much more stylishly executed in elbow-length red gloves. They finally get it and we move through the calling. "71 - Bum fun." "80 - Lubricate me." "76 - Spotted dicks." (eeeuuuch!) And, worryingly, "15 - Barely legal." Someone really should tell Aunty Pipi, who must know in her day job in the AIDS Foundation's Christchurch office, that the age of consent in New Zealand is actually 16. Julie with some of her loot Very early in the piece Julie scores one of the prize packs and, like the others to come, it's a beauty. Included are glow sticks and tickets to Saturday night's big party, a marriage or civil union celebrant service, sachets of hair product and two tickets to the Court Theatre's forthcoming Hound of the Baskervilles production. Two tables of young people seem to dominate the joyful shouts of "Bingo!" And an older chap who I will only identify, churlishly, as the Chocolate Monster dominates the chocolate wheel results. Far too many of my hoped-for chocolate boxes ending up on his table. If he only knew how close he was to being bowled down as I contemplated making a lunge for his mountains of booty. The chocolate wheel, by the way, turns out to be a chocolate bag: Aunty Pipi's sequined purse. Sometimes the numbers are lost in the general good-humoured chat but everyone confers and spots if a fellow-player has missed a call. "20 - Don't call Karen." Huh? And waaay too many dodgy bum references attached to otherwise innocuous and innocent numbers. Tony Milne scores several wins as the calling continues. The helpful Theresa has a win too. But nothing else comes to our table so Julie and Rhonda kindly slip me a few sachets of hair product. I feel pathetically grateful. All too soon the fun and convivial evening is over and I sadly head my way back home, pausing at Featherstone's Dairy on Harewood Road to purchase a consoling bar of dairy milk. (23/3/14 note: Now someone has reminded me about that awful 'Karen' voicemail thing from way back. Duh!) Jay Bennie - 21st March 2014